Ethan ran upstairs to his bedroom to get dressed. He put on a pair of boxer shorts. His dick was not as hard as before, but it hung out the left leg of his shorts. He put on his jeans and looked at himself in the mirror. His dick clearly stood out against his left leg. He sighed and took the jeans off.

Somewhere in his dresser was a pair of jockey shorts he no longer wore. He found them buried in the bottom drawer. He took off the boxers, put on the jockeys, and put the boxers back on over them.

Immediately, he was uncomfortable. The jockeys were too tight. His penis grew even harder, straining against the underwear. He looked at himself in the mirror again. At least he couldn't see the outline of it against his leg. It was terribly uncomfortable, but nobody would laugh.

He put on his jeans and shoes and a shirt and went downstairs. Mom and Mrs. Thorn were still in the kitchen, having tea. He went out to the garage and turned on the light. The car was waiting patiently for him. He stood back to look at it for a few seconds. It was a 1966 GTO, his grandfather's. On the workbench, by the repair manual, were three two-barrel carburetors. It took him two weeks to strip them down, clean and reassemble them. Today was as good a day as any to put them back on.

He raised the hood. The engine lurked beneath like a wild animal restrained by a cage. At the top, the three holes in the manifold were covered with masking tape. Ethan removed the tape from the rear hole, picked up the carb marked for that spot, and placed it carefully over the four mounting studs.

In his mind, he saw the cheerleaders going through their routines. They had slender waists and smooth legs and their chests jiggled and bounced. He grew stiff again. He stopped tightening the bolts on the carburetor to adjust his penis in his shorts. The harder it grew, the more uncomfortable it got. Shifting it in his shorts only made it harder. His penis finally slipped through the leg of the jockeys. He shook his legs a few times until it was hanging down his jeans against his left leg. That was better, but the band of the jockeys was too tight, cutting into the shaft.

He heard a footstep and turned around quickly, taking his hands away from his groin. Mrs. Thorn's eyebrows arched up. She was looking down at the front of his jeans.

"Uncomfortable, Ethan?" she said.

Ethan blushed and stared at the floor. "Just ... a little tight."

Mrs. Thorn smirked. "I'll bet."

She leaned against the fender of the GTO and looked in at the engine. Her large breasts rested on her folded arms, bulging from the halter top like they might burst out.

"This is a nice car, Ethan," she said.

"It was my grandfather's."

"Looks like it belongs to you."

Ethan just nodded and stared at her out of the corner of his eye. One of her long legs kicked up and her backside moved side to side. Mrs. Thorn was not like the girls he knew. Her chest was much bigger and she had longer legs than any of those girls. He badly wanted to touch Mrs. Thorn, to see how her body felt.

"You probably can't wait to drive it, can you?" Mrs. Thorn said as she moved around to the front of the car.

"No, ma'am," Ethan said. His eyes were on her breasts, watching the way they jiggled.

She started to say something, but lost her balance. Her arms went out and she fell back against him. Ethan caught her around her waist. His fingers touched her breasts. He was right; they were soft. Her ass pressed against the front of his jeans and his hard penis lodged in the crack between her cheeks.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Ethan," she said. Her ass moved side to side on his stiffness and she leaned against him for a few seconds. "I just wanted to get a better look. Would you hold me up?"

Mrs. Thorn bent forward to look over the front grill. Ethan's hands moved down her waist to her hips. Her ass pressed more firmly against the front of his jeans. His eyes rolled up.

"That's a really nice machine you have here. You'll have to take me for a ride some time."

"Sure," Ethan said, but as she stood up and left, he got the feeling she was talking about something else.

He couldn't move. His penis was as hard as a rock and stretched down the leg of his jeans. The leg band of the jockeys cut into it painfully. There was no way it would go soft and he couldn't go out to dinner with it sticking out like that.

He leaned back on the stool. Mrs. Thorn's ass felt incredible. He never would have believed being touched by a girl like that would have felt so good. He rubbed his cock through his jeans and gasped. His knees became weak. He sat for a long time with his hands on his knees, trying not to touch it.

>From behind the car, he watched the neighbor across the street watering his lawn, and a few cars that drove by, until he couldn't stand it any longer. He had to do something. He couldn't go in; Mom would see him like this. Besides, he didn't think he could walk. Maybe if he took it out of his tight shorts, the cool air of the garage would make it go soft.

He opened his jeans, pushed down the front of his boxers and the jockeys, and pulled out his cock. He sighed. The tension eased from his body. He let his weight settle on the stool.

The jockey shorts were a bad idea. He could not stand being so uncomfortable all the time. There had to be another way. He would just stop thinking about girls that was all. He wouldn't think about them and his dick wouldn't get hard. He wouldn't think about their soft chests or their round asses or their long legs...

The cool air wasn't working. He was still as hard as a rock and it wasn't getting softer. He lifted his penis. The skin burned like it was on fire. He never understood how it got so big. It was like it happened all of a sudden. He couldn't remember it being so big until one day when he was younger and noticed it for the first time. Now it was about as long as his forearm and as thick as his wrist. He squeezed. It felt like there was a piece of wood under the skin. It got hard sometimes in the morning when he woke up and had to pee, or in the middle of the night when he was having a dream. It got hard, too, when he looked at girls, like those cheerleaders, or when he just thought about them. He moved his hand back and forth and gasped. That felt good. He squeezed and moved his hand back and forth and groaned. His knees felt weak. He did it again and groaned again. He moved his hand all the way up to the end, then all the way back down to the bottom.

Ethan closed his eyes and saw Mrs. Thorn again, saw her big breasts and her long legs, and the way her slender waist fit in his hands and the way her butt pressed against his groin when she bent over. His penis spasmed and he grunted. It felt too good to stop. His hand moved faster. He moaned as his hand pumped. His penis spasmed again and he groaned and opened his eyes. He started to cum and his stuff shot out the end. His penis spasmed again and more stuff shot out. It was white and thick and splattered on the floor. He stared with his mouth hanging open. Over and over, it spurted from his penis and landed on the floor.

He groaned. He looked down at his penis. It was still hard.

* * * *

The sun was strong and straight overhead. Ethan was dripping with sweat. The stifling heat had sapped his strength. He stood in the driveway, holding the basketball, no longer with the energy to even dribble. Sweat dripped from his face and bare chest and evaporated as soon as it hit the pavement. He needed some relief, and the air conditioning inside just wasn't going to do it. He needed to sink himself in some cool water. He needed to go swimming in the Thorn's pool.

Their driveway was empty. Perfect. They invited him and his sister to use their pool anytime they wanted, but he preferred to swim when they weren't home. Mrs. Thorn was all right, but Mr. Thorn always wanted to tell him one of his long stories.

This was the Fourth of July weekend, though, and they had probably gone away somewhere. Ethan grabbed his t-shirt and went inside to put on his swim trunks. He changed in his room, grabbed a towel from the closet, and ran next door. The gate of the tall, wooden fence was unlocked, as he expected. He went in. The water in the pool shimmered in the sunlight like a beckoning oasis. He tossed the towel on a lawn chair, kicked off his basketball shoes, and dove in.

Gayle Thorn picked up the bag of groceries, unlocked the front door, went in and set her keys and purse on the table beside the door. She took the groceries out of the bag and put them in the refrigerator.

She heard a splash. Someone was in the pool. She leaned over the sink to see out the window. The water was rippling. She rushed out of the kitchen to the sliding glass doors in the living room. Her worst fear had always been that one of the young children in the neighborhood would wander into the backyard and fall into the pool. If that happened, she would never forgive herself.

A head appeared in the water. It was Ethan. He swam to the far side of the pool and climbed out. Gayle smiled. Ethan was no longer the scrawny young kid she watched growing up next door. He was growing lean and tall.

Ethan trotted to the diving board, leaving a wet trail on the cement. He climbed up to the board, walked out to the end, bounced a few times, and dove in. Gayle closed her eyes, remembering the way she saw him in the garage a few weeks ago. She'd seen a lot of cocks in her time, but never one as big as the one in Ethan's jeans.

Ethan climbed out, ran to the diving board, and dove in again.

Francis did not believe her when she told him. He claimed that since she did not actually see it uncovered or touched it, she could not accurately judge its size. When she told him how she bent over and pressed her ass to his groin, he was equally disbelieving. According to him, she could not measure the dimensions of a man's cock with her ass. She told him he was full of shit.

Ethan floated on his back, kicking and splashing with his feet. She had an idea. She would find out exactly what Ethan had in his shorts, and she knew just how to do it.

Ethan drifted slowly on his back with his eyes closed. The sun was warm on his face. The cool water reenergized him. He would have gone back to play more basketball, but he was too relaxed, and having too much fun in the pool.

He climbed out of the pool and went to the diving board. He walked to the end, standing with his toes over the edge. He held out his arms, bounced a few times and dove in, slicing neatly into the water with his arms over his head like the point of a knife. Pumping with his feet, he paddled straight down; touched the bottom like he did every time, then pushed himself up. His head broke the surface. He wiped the water from his eyes, brushed his hair back, and paddled to the edge.

As he lifted himself out, he froze. The sliding glass door opened. Mrs. Thorn emerged from the darkness of the house, carrying two tall glasses with ice and straws and a bottle of suntan lotion. She wore dark, tortoise shell sunglasses, high heeled black shoes, and a pink bikini that was barely more than three tiny patches of fabric to cover her chest and ... Ethan stared at the tiny triangle below her belly button ... Her pussy. His jaw dropped. He teetered on the edge of the pool and grabbed the ladder railing.

"Hi, Ethan. I made lemonade. Would you like some?" she said.

She walked to the table by the lawn chair and set the glasses and the lotion down. Her huge breasts bounced with every step. Her entire body was a deep bronze color.

"Sure," Ethan said. He walked slowly to the table, trying not to stare at her chest. His penis was already hard in his shorts.

She was smiling. He took a deep drink of lemonade and coughed.

"Pretty strong?" she said.

He wiped his mouth. "What's in this?"

"I put a shot of whisky in it. Do you like it?"

He coughed again. "Whisky?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry. You probably never had whisky," she said. She took the glass and wiped his chin. "Are you ok?"

He nodded. "Fine."

"Good."

She took a long drink of lemonade. While her head was tilted back, Ethan stared at her chest. The tiny pieces of pink fabric barely covered her nipples and the strings cut into her soft flesh. His penis twitched and grew harder. It had to be pushing out the front of his shorts, but he didn't care.

Mrs. Thorn set her glass down. Her eyes glanced down to his shorts.

"Would you do me a favor?" she said.

"Sure."

She handed him the bottle of cocoa butter lotion. "Would you put lotion on my back?"

Without waiting for an answer, she straddled the reclining lawn chair and lay down on her belly. Ethan's eyes opened wide. The strip of pink fabric on the back of the bikini bottom disappeared between the cheeks of her ass.

"Go ahead," she said, her head turned to the side to look up at him. "Don't take too long. I burn easily. I have delicate skin, you know."

Ethan's hands trembled. He couldn't take his eyes off her ass. He never saw anything that looked so good in his life. He swallowed hard and sat down on the edge of the lawn chair. His knee touched her bare hip. He tried to pull away, but she moved her legs so she was touching him again.

"Don't skimp on the lotion, honey. Make sure you use plenty," Mrs. Thorn said. She rested her chin on her folded hands.

He uncapped the lotion and squirted it into his palm. His hands shook. His erection strained to get out of his shorts. His hands hovered a few inches over her shoulders. Mrs. Thorn had a small smile on her lips, but he couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed through the dark glasses. He swallowed hard and touched her shoulder.

"Mmm, that's nice," Mrs. Thorn said.

Ethan's eyes rolled back in his head. Her skin was soft and warm. His hand moved slowly in a circular pattern over her shoulder, smearing the lotion. Her skin became slick and shiny. He squirted more lotion on her other shoulder and rubbed it in. He squirted some on the small of her back and spread it on her skin, running his hands over the gentle curve of her waist.

"Lower," she said.

He moved his hands down her back until his fingers grazed the top of the bikini bottom. He groaned and shifted uncomfortably on the edge of the lawn chair.

Ethan's hands were not shaking as much, but he was sweating and his heart was pounding. He squirted the lotion up her near leg in a line from her ankle to the middle of her thigh. He started at her ankle and moved up.

"That's good, Ethan."

Her legs spread a bit. He could see a few wispy hairs poking out from under the thin, pink strip of fabric. She put her hand on his and moved it to the inside of her thigh.

"Don't forget to get down in here."

She moved his hand way up her leg. His fingers pressed against her warm crotch. She moaned softly, moved his hand down, then back up, moaning again. Her hips arched off the chair.

"Are you thirsty?" she said.

She let go of his hand and sat up to take a drink of lemonade. Ethan snatched his hand back and pressed both over his lap, keeping his legs squeezed together.

"Yeah," he said. He swallowed and his throat was dry.

She handed him his glass. As he tilted it back to drink, Mrs. Thorn removed her bikini top and lay back, stretching her arms over her head. Ethan coughed and sputtered, spilling lemonade down his chin to his bare chest.

"Could you do my front side really good? My husband likes it when I don't have any tan lines," she said.

Ethan could not move. The condensation from the glass dripped on his leg, but he could not take his eyes off her chest. She wiggled her ass in the chair and they jiggled. The pink nipples at the tips were hard points.

Ethan put down the glass and picked up the bottle of lotion. He held it out, but hesitated. Should he put his hands right on them, or should he start on her belly? Would she be mad if he touched them? He started on her belly, just to be safe, but stared at her chest. He rubbed the lotion in small circles over her belly button. Her ass wiggled and she made soft moaning noises.

"Let me help," she said, and reached for the bottle of lotion.

She held it upside down and let the white lotion dribble on her chest. The drops landed with a splat. Ethan's mouth fell open. She closed the cap and set the bottle on the table.

"Now spread that around for me, honey," she said.

He looked at his hands. She wanted him to put them on her chest. He held them out over each breast, closed his eyes and lowered them.

"Oh yes, Ethan," she said.

He groaned. They were so soft. He rubbed his hands lightly over them, then squeezed. He groaned again and shifted uncomfortably.

Mrs. Thorn's hand touched his knee. Ethan froze except for his hands. Her fingers moved slowly up his leg to the bottom edge of his shorts. He was sure she would stop there, but she didn't. Her hand moved over the front of his shorts, right over his hard cock.

Ethan's eyes rolled shut. Her hand moved back and forth along his erection, squeezing. Her hand felt good, much better than when he did it. Then her hand was gone. Mrs. Thorn sat up.

"Would you like more lemonade?" she said.

Ethan started to speak but had no voice and cleared his throat.

"Yes ma'am" he said.

She picked up the two empty glasses and started toward the house.

"Come on inside with me, honey."

She opened the sliding glass door. He was still sitting on the edge of the lawn chair, his hands over his lap. She looked over the tops of her sunglasses.

"What are you waiting for?"

Ethan stalled as long as he could. He stood up slowly, his hands covering the front of his shorts. His penis shifted on its own and popped out of the inner part of the swim trunks. It pushed outward against his hands, hanging out the leg of his shorts. He walked toward her stiffly and could feel cool air blowing on the tip.

She went inside. He followed and closed the door. She refilled both glasses with a pitcher of lemonade, opened a bottle of brown stuff with a black label, and poured a bit into each glass. She stirred his with her finger, licked her finger, and handed him the glass.

"Try that."

Ethan took a sip and coughed. It burned his throat.

"Too strong? Let me fix that for you, dear," Mrs. Thorn said.

She took his glass, raised it to her lips and tilted her head back. The lemonade spilled over her cheeks and chin, down on her bare breasts, and all the way down her legs to the floor. Ethan's mouth fell open.

Mrs. Thorn let out a big, refreshed sigh and set the glass down. She leaned back against the counter with her hands on the edge. Her eyes looked down at the front of his shorts.

"Show it to me, Ethan."

"Wh-What?"

She pointed to his groin. "I want to see what you got in them trunks, son."

His breath caught in his throat.

"Don't be nervous, now. Just show it to me."

His hands were shaking. He tried to think of what he should do, but his mind was a blank. He hooked his thumbs over the elastic band at the waist.

"Just take them all the way off. It'll be easier that way," she said. Her fingers teased her nipple.

Ethan hesitated. "What will be easier?"

"Fucking. You do want to fuck me, don't you? Because, honey, I can't wait to get that tool up my slot."

Her hand slipped down into the tiny bikini bottoms. Her legs spread. Ethan couldn't tell what she was doing there. He just watched the way her fingers moved under the thin fabric. He pushed his shorts to the floor and stepped out.

Mrs. Thorn sighed and her eyes widened.

"Oh, sugar, you are all man. Don't let anyone tell you different. Now bring that tool over here for me."

He walked toward her across the kitchen, his wet, bare feet slapping on the linoleum floor. His penis was so hard it ached, and it swung in front of him with every step like some misshapen appendage.

Mrs. Thorn held out her hand and let his cock glide into it. Ethan flinched. She closed her fingers around it and stroked slowly.

"No, ma'am," Ethan said. He didn't want to admit he had no idea what she was talking about.

Mrs. Thorn chuckled as she took off the bikini bottoms.

"I guess we're both in for a special treat today."

She set her feet apart, put her hand on her crotch and spread herself open. Ethan stared between her legs. She had a small patch of curly hair down there, and a moist, pink area between her fingers.

"Bring it here, Ethan," she said. Her voice was low and hoarse.

He took a step closer. She put her hand around his cock, raised it and pointed the tip at the tiny, pink area between her legs. She pulled. He moved closer. She put one hand on his shoulder and hooked one leg around his hip. The end of his cock touched that pink area. He gasped. It was warm and wet. Part of it sunk into her.

"Now push, hon. Just push slow," she said.

Ethan pushed with his hips. The flared end of his penis disappeared inside her. They both groaned at the same time. He pushed again. Mrs. Thorn squealed and bit her lower lip. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

"Oh sweet Jesus," she said.

Her pussy was warm and wet and tight and smothered his penis. Ethan put a hand on each of Mrs. Thorn's hips and pushed himself forward. Her body seemed to resist him, but when he squeezed her hips and pulled her toward him, his penis slowly sunk deeper.

"Oh God ... Oh God, Ethan," Mrs. Thorn cried.

She hugged him tight to her body. Her chin rested on his shoulder and she moaned in his ear. She ran her hands down to his lower back.

"That's deep enough. Fuck me now, sweetie. You know how to do it," she whispered in his ear.

Ethan was still for a few seconds, panting, trying to sort out everything that was happening. His cock felt like it was going to explode. He could not think how to describe being enveloped by the warmth and wetness of her body. Her long legs were wrapped around him, her big, soft breasts were pressed flat against his chest, and her hands were running over his back and butt.

He moved his hips back, then forward.

"That's it. That's it. Just like that," Mrs. Thorn said with a soft moan.

Ethan closed his eyes. His hips moved faster, as if on their own. Mrs. Thorn squeezed his butt.

"Slow down, Ethan. Don't rush it, hon. Take your time," she said.

Ethan took a few seconds to catch his breath. Her hips moved in his hands. He moved his own hips slowly, just like before, out a little bit, and then back in.

"Yes. Yes, I knew you'd be good at this," Mrs. Thorn whispered. Her lips brushed his earlobe.

Ethan pumped his hips again, pushing himself as deep into her as he could. Mrs. Thorn rocked her hips at the same speed. Her moaning got louder.

"Oh Ethan ... Oh Ethan, you're gonna make me cum," she said.

He didn't understand what she meant. He didn't want to stop to find out. Something was happening inside him, the same thing that happened when he rubbed his thing with his hand, only this time it was much better. Mrs. Thorn was screaming. Her body thrust against him in convulsions. Her arms and legs clamped around his body. Her pussy tightened around his cock, and he exploded.

He threw his head back. His cock throbbed painfully. His knees got weak and he put his hand on the edge of the counter to hold himself up. Mrs. Thorn's screams became weak moans, and her body became limp. Her head rolled back. He wrapped his arms around her waist to hold her up.

"Mrs. Thorn? Mrs. Thorn?" he said.

She raised her head, looked both ways, and smiled.

"Good God, Ethan."

She put both hands on his cheeks and kissed him, plunging her tongue into his mouth. Ethan froze. Her tongue felt slimy and weird, but it stirred a feeling deep in his stomach. He squeezed her breast. Her back arched. He was still hard inside her and began moving his hips again. Mrs. Thorn raised her head and gasped, staring into his eyes with her mouth open. Her lipstick was smeared.

Her hips rocked with his, slowly at first, then faster. She closed her eyes and bit her lower lip. Her moans were high pitched squeaks. She laid her head on his shoulder, and it was happening again. Her body jerked in his hands and his cock was spasming. He grunted and thrust himself forward with every spasm. Mrs. Thorn gasped over and over.

As the spasming stopped, his pushing stopped. Mrs. Thorn was panting in his ear. He was breathing hard, too, and their sweaty bodies were glued together.

She brushed her hand through his hair, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"You liked that, didn't you, dear?" she said.

"Yes, ma'am."

She frowned. "Ethan, hon, never call a lady ma'am. It makes her feel old. A lady doesn't like to feel old."

"No, I guess not."

He started moving his hips again. His penis was sliding in and out of her body. She pushed against his shoulder.

"Enough, Ethan. Enough please. My poor body can't take it one more time."

"Sorry," he said, and stopped.

His hands moved up to her breasts and squeezed. Mrs. Thorn smiled. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes seemed to sparkle.

"That was pretty good dear, especially your first time and all."

"Thanks."

She paused. "You can take it out now."

"Oh. Right."

Ethan stepped back. His penis slipped slowly from her body with a wet sucking sound. The head dropped free. She groaned. She put her hands on the edge of the counter and her arms strained. A flood of white fluid gushed from her tiny pink slit and ran down both legs. Mrs. Thorn looked down, holding her legs apart.

"My God did you cum. I swear I never seen so much," she said.

Ethan staggered backward and dropped into a chair at the dining table. His penis stood up from his lap, drooping slightly to the left. That white stuff dripped from the end. Mrs. Thorn had that stuff inside her.

She chuckled and covered her mouth with her hand.

"I hope you don't get me pregnant. How would I explain that to my husband?"

Ethan sat upright. He forgot about Mr. Thorn. What if he came home and saw him doing this with his wife? He'd be dead.

"I have to get home," Ethan said. He bent down and grabbed his shorts.

Mrs. Thorn's eyebrows went up. "Already? You sure you don't want to stay for dinner? Francis will be home shortly."

Ethan's heart felt like it had been seized in a fist. He jerked the shorts up, stumbling. His stiff penis wouldn't go in. He bent it sideways and forced it down.

"M-Maybe next time. I got to go," he said and went to the back door.

"Ok. Goodbye. Come swimming again sometime," Mrs. Thorn said.

Ethan stopped halfway through the sliding glass door. She had a look on her face he couldn't understand. Her naked body glistened with perspiration and the cocoa butter lotion. He gritted his teeth and dashed out of the yard through the gate.

End.

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